


Factis Non Verbis

by YumeMori (Filduine)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Relationships, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friendship, Introspection, Mission Reports, Oblivious, Pushy Friends, Slow Burn, Teasing, War Table (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filduine/pseuds/YumeMori
Summary: Love isn't something people just trip into; it is the culmination of many tiny, overlooked parts where two people overlap. It is the untold conversations, the brushing of hands, the shaping of private smiles. Sadly, Cullen and Trevelyan are the last to realize this. Eventual Cullen/Magequisitor.





	1. Of Maps and Change

Everyone always said that endings were hard, if only because they were _endings_. They marked where change began, and change was something to be feared after death, giant spiders, and darkspawn (almost always in that exact order). The face and fate of Thedas reflected that: little had changed since the time of Andraste. Slavery existed under different forms and names, magic was still something to be in awe of, and the Maker still cared nothing for his children. It was why most in Thedas viewed endings as something to be feared. Even the end of the Fifth Blight was something people still weren't all that comfortable with.

But Cullen disagreed. Endings were easy because they only marked the _start_ of change. Beginnings were hard. Beginnings meant that it was now time to start putting in effort toward that change. With beginnings, no longer could change be some far off thought never realized, but the actual work that came with making sure change _happened_. It required time, sacrifice, hard work and determination.

And he had had many beginnings in his life to be sure of this fact. Endings were easy; they were as simple as closing a book and putting it on a shelf. Beginnings were hard; they required time and forethought and resources, and that was just to make the shelf that a book would eventually rest on. He had yet to shy away from a beginning or a challenge yet.

The Inquisition was that challenge, that beginning. He had his doubts about it, like most people had them after buying new armor and wondered if the fit will ever be right. And just when Cullen thought he might have found that right fit, finally, happenstance threw them all out of their new comfort.

The Conclave failed. Thousands dead. A hole in the sky. A single survivor.

The tavern bards finally had a new song to sing: a prisoner who would be Andraste's Herald.

He had shared only a few brief conversations with her before she left for the Hinterlands to expand the influence of the Inquisition. And he found her to be like many other circle mages he had known: naïve with childlike wonder and a curiosity that could never quite be sated. Yet, unlike others, she had a directness about her and a way of speaking that reminded him of lesser, humbler nobles in Kirkwall.

For the first time in a while, he found himself curious about a mage. He wondered if it was a test of his own commitment to a new beginning, as whenever he found himself curious about a mage, it never worked out well—for him or the world, really. But maybe, just maybe, it would be different. It was the work of two women mages that set the world on this path, perhaps it would need another to fix it.

He had his chance for a real conversation beyond just getting to know each other (and fluster him, though he refused to dwell on why she needed to know whether or not he had taken celibacy vows) when she and her companions rode in on the only horses Dennet would part with at the moment and a few new agents to join Mother Giselle.

The initial briefing lasted a few hours before Leliana and Josephine walked out to inspect and bring the new agents up to speed, and Cassandra to likely take out her frustrations at the Herald's actions on the training ground. Cullen could not help but note that this was the first time since meeting her that the two of them were actually and truly alone.

She smiled at him over the large map of Southern Thedas, the candlelight playing on her face in ways he wished he didn't notice. He cleared his throat, causing her to look away. "About those guard towers Dennet wanted…"

"Of course," she said. Like most of her other movements, words and actions, she barely hesitated when she reached into her leather duster and produced a carefully folded parchment. She unfolded it, gently running her fingertips along the creases before gesturing him to come closer.

When he joined her on the other side of the table, he was close enough to smell the fresh air and horseflesh she had not had the time to clean off her body. It was a decidedly homesick smell for him. One he could not and would not dwell on.

Instead, it was her fingers that grabbed his attention next. Long, slender, delicate. He could almost imagine the ink stains upon them, as hers were the kind of fingers best suited to tables and ledgers, not battles and bladed staffs. But he had no doubt they were just as precise no matter their occupation.

"Here, here, and here." She was precise in pointing out three marks on the parchment, and he noticed for the first time that it was actually a map. While they had all received rather basic maps from the scouts, pointing out water sources and camps (and a dragon nest, of all things), hers was more precise. The kind of map he was used to seeing from Templar scouts.

When her fingers pulled away, his took over. It had been a long time since he had seen such familiar marks that he couldn't help touching them. A quarry here, landmark there, outlines of abandoned fortresses, cave markers… "Where did you learn how to do this?" He hoped his question didn't sound as accusatory to her as it did to him.

She smiled again, this time a touch fonder than before. "When the Ostwick Circle fell…not all Templars abandoned their duty. Myself and a few of the younger ones had been protected and led away from the fighting by a few of the older Templars. I learned what I could from them before our ways ended up parting." And he watched as that tender smile became one colored with sadness. "Apparently, it was one of the only things they taught that I was really good at."

"They taught you well then," he said. He liked to tell the truth straight and direct, less room for misunderstandings. For the first time in their limited history of conversations, it was she ducking her head in shyness, trying to hide her flushed cheeks instead of the other way around. "Do you mind if I keep this one? For the men, that is. I hate sending anyone in blind, even if the majority of the threat has been taken care of."

"Actually," she drawled. "I have to head back out soon and close the last few rifts in the area… You will be sending out men to construct the watchtowers in the morning, yes?" He nodded. "Before they leave, I will have a copy for you to give them."

"All right." He watched her fold her map back up and tuck it away in her leather again. "Perhaps I should have you sit down with the scouts one day and teach them how to do maps."

It was the first time he heard her chuckle. "Perhaps, but then I wouldn't have the honor of making them for you." She smiled and pushed off from the table. "Commander."

He _knew_ he didn't mistake that cheeky flirtatious tone in her voice as she said that and walked away. He heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Maker's breath. She's going to be the death of me."


	2. Of Coincidences

It was another week before she returned. Sometimes Cullen wondered at the strangeness of it; here was a woman who was only just becoming known as the Herald of Andraste instead of The Prisoner, and yet was fully trusted to go off into the world for days or weeks at a time. But she always came back in one piece, more or less. The Hinterlands hadn't been a safe place since the Mage-Templar War began, so he took it as a good sign when everyone came back alive and with all their limbs. Because, more than anyone else, he knew what both sides were fully capable of.

He hadn't seen her yet, but there had been an even newer map placed at the top of his paperwork along with his requisition orders that had been filled while she was out. He had seen the newest recruit hanging around the Blacksmith, a Grey Warden. They were a group he held nothing but respect for, but at the moment he was more focused on just where she had gone.

When he finally asked Cassandra, she struck a particularly vicious blow against the training dummy and took off its arm before she said, "A fool's errand."

Unfortunately, that seemed to be all any one of her companions could say. Cullen took a small comfort in knowing that they felt as disquieted about her being on her own as he did. She was a mage, and while he had nothing but an awed respect of the power they wielded, he knew the dangers.

Trevelyan was a "free" mage (the distinction hers when the word apostate had been used) out in a world where mages and Templars were content with trying to kill each other, or anything that moved. She would be dead against Templars, no doubt about that; and likely dead against mages, too, as he was sure they didn't so much care about their methods to power as she did. Without her, and by extension, her mark, their Inquisition may as well be dead in the water.

By sheer luck of some kind, she was now a major player in their faction whether or not anyone liked it, including her. It was why none of them could just run off whenever they wanted, by themselves.

Unfortunately, she stayed missing through the war meeting. They did their best without their fifth, often tie-breaking, voice as they decided the best way to go about searching for the weapon of Tyrdda Bright-Axe and the old Andraste cult that used to live in Haven a decade ago.

It meant he left the Chantry later than he ever wanted to, and, quite literally, stumbled into the source of his day's problems.

She still wore her armor, and he noticed the bandage on her cheek which told him she had just seen Adan. His hands gripped her arms, and for the first time he noticed just how much smaller she was than him. All the more reason she shouldn't have stayed out all day.

"Oh, Commander," she trailed off and refused to look directly at him. It was almost amusing how easy it was to read the guilt coming from her.

"I'm afraid you're just a little too late for the meeting," he said. He felt her tense under his fingers and quickly released her.

"Oh," she breathed. "Sorry. I…didn't mean to skip out on it today."

He glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. Her tone didn't sound apologetic at all, not in that way at least, and she winced.

"I really didn't… Especially since we leave for Val Royeaux in the morning. I didn't miss anything too important, did I?" _"_ _I didn't make anyone worry too much?"_ was the unspoken question lingering behind that one that she was unsure of asking, he felt. It was strange, to see her hesitant in something for once.

"No, not at all," he said. It was a lie, pretty much, but she sighed and he saw the tension slip away. He would let her slip out without a lecture tonight since he was sure Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine would be more than willing to do that for him.

She walked past him, likely heading toward the war room. He figured it as good a place as any to leave the conversation and was just about to bid her goodnight when she broke the silence first.

"Do you have any family, Commander?"

He paused, trying to analyze the situation. Unfortunately, he knew very little of her despite how much she had been trying to pry into his personal life. "I do."

"Are they safe?" She paused, her shoulders hunching. "From all this war and fighting, I mean."

He nodded, despite her not looking his way. "I would be surprised if they weren't." He waited for her to say something, to elaborate on why she would even ask, but she didn't. She kept standing there, away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze. "May I inquire as to why you wanted to know?"

She glanced his way for a brief moment, too brief for him to say anything concrete on the manner of her expression, but he was almost certain she had a smile made small by pain. But she looked away too soon and shook her head. "Goodnight, Commander," was all she said before she walked away into the war room.

It was the next day, in the afternoon, when he learned the cause of why she asked. Leliana had just produced a report from a Free Marcher agent about some distant relations of hers trying to claim a rapport with her and the Inquisition. When he had inquired about her closer relations and how they felt about it, he received the news that they wanted little to do with the matter. They had suffered losses as well: while some of her siblings and cousins died at the Conclave, her younger brother was a Templar who followed the Order when it broke away. He had been found dead earlier that day on the King's Road not all that far from Haven.


	3. Of Whispers and Requests

"Draw your last breath, my friends,  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.  
Rest at the Maker's right hand,  
And be Forgiven."

"The Canticle of Trials isn't usually popular enough to be memorized," Cullen said.

It startled Trevelyan enough that he heard her gasp and saw her start from the ball she tried to roll herself in in the front pew of the Chantry. He thought he had been loud enough walking (between his boots and armor and the tiled floor, he couldn't be quiet), but apparently she had been too wrapped up in her own praying to notice. Or her thoughts. It was difficult for Cullen to read her half the time, while the other half she was too easy to read. He figured she had no in-between moments or parts to her personality; she was just one extreme or another.

Or maybe he had failings when it came to reading women and their moods, thoughts or wants.

And, to be honest, he would have walked right by her and never even noticed that she was there. Or that she had been the one praying. But one sharp look from Vivienne, one of her newest members to her little rag-tag group she was building, had him pausing. That woman was the dangerous kind of mage, someone who wielded power as easily as she wielded the cold and ice. Even more than that, she was a dangerous kind of _woman_. Period.

She had manipulative down to an art form. It took one look to let him know something was wrong. Something she could not or, rather, did not want to deal with.

"Oh, well," she began, and he could see her beginning to gather her composure. "I always liked it best. They're all about overcoming adversity and such, instead of warning about the dangers of magic or being dirges. It's hard not to see the appeal."

He smirked and leaned against the pew. "I can certainly agree with that."

She smiled up at him. "I've always wondered… Is it as boring for Templars to memorize the Canticle of Transfigurations as it is for us mages?"

"If by that you mean that we also would nod off and think about everything else while studying it, then yes." Out of habit, he realized that he rested his left hand on the pommel of his sword. It happened every time magic was brought up, and he hated it only because of how it would draw her gaze. It always dampened her smile.

She looked back up at him. "Oh, good. It's so good to know there is that in common."

He nodded. "Is there a particular reason for the Canticle of Trials?" He had an idea, but didn't want to reveal he knew, just in case he was wrong.

She took in a deep breath and glanced around. It was still early enough in the day that there were lay sisters around, not to mention Vivienne, and various other pilgrims who made the trek to see the Herald. Taking a guess, he motioned to the door. "If you would like to accompany me…?"

And he was rewarded with a smile too bright and large, one that he had seen only once before when she had been eager for a lecture not too long after their first conversation. He cleared his throat and looked away, only to meet Vivienne's knowing gaze and smile. The other mage looked away by the time Trevelyan stood and faced him.

"Shall we, Commander?"

In reply, he moved his hand from his sword pommel to her lower back and guided her out of the chantry door. As soon as they stepped outside, he heard and felt her take in a deep breath and exhale before she smiled up at him. "I know we discussed it inside, but are you truly all right with what was decided?"

He nodded once, and her smile quickly became a frown. "I know that nod. You're just agreeing with me and the others."

Cullen sighed this time and looked away, though his hand remained where it was. "No, I do truly see it as the best course of action. I can see the venture between Bull's Chargers and our troops going well. I'm more concerned about _you_. You were reciting the Chant while trying to hide in the chantry." He quirked a smile down at her, taken aback yet again by just how _slight_ she was. "Had Vivienne not pointed you out, I would have completely missed you."

Even more than that, he had an idea what had happened in the Hinterlands now two weeks ago. Leliana had told him about the death of her youngest brother, Josephine about the angry missive from her eldest brother. And if the way she looked at him said anything, she knew what he wasn't asking.

Yet she only smiled that sad half-smile he saw before she left for Val Royeaux, then the Storm Coast two weeks ago and looked away. "I've just…had things on my mind. I was wondering, though, Commander."

She trailed off and he continued leading her to the makeshift training grounds, waiting for her to speak her mind. He was finding she did this sometimes, that she would start to say something then pause as she tried to find the best way to word a request. He remembered many mages doing the same as they requested something of their superiors at the Circles he had been in. It was unnerving to see her treat him that way when they had both left that life for one reason or another.

"I know I am going to Redcliffe to see about the mages and what they want, but I was wondering if you might look into the Templars. We haven't had any word really on how to approach them or what they might want from an alliance." She sighed. "And I just don't want to leave everything in the hands of the mages."

He raised an eyebrow. "I have to say that's unexpected. With how you were in the War Room, I have to say this is somewhat out of character for you."

"Because I'm a mage?" She looked up at him again smiling, but with a wry humor. "Not all mages wanted to leave the Circle, you know. And Vivienne has made some good points about them and their desperation to me, all of which I agree to. I agree with some of yours as well."

When she looked back down, it was to her hand burdened with the anchor. He had a feeling she was thinking about his own warning that pouring too much magic into it could destroy everything. As much as he didn't think it possible, he was becoming quite fond of the woman. Even with her being a mage, but he was finding it easier to ignore that about her. Well, to ignore that about most mages these days. He took it as a step in the right direction.

"I'll do my best while you are away, Herald."

"I do have a name, you know." It was almost laughed out, but the teasing behind it couldn't be masked.

"I know, Lady Trevelyan."

"That's not what I meant." And then she danced away from his hand and side upon arriving at the field outside the gates. Just as he was about to miss her warmth, she turned around and was suddenly too close. He could smell the scent she used to wash her hair in, though he couldn't quite name what it was. She squeezed his arm as best she could and whispered a, "Thank you," into his ear before she was gone again.

With how casually she walked over to Iron Bull and began talking to him, he almost thought he imagined it. But the flush he could feel on his face and the lingering memory of her touch told him otherwise.


	4. Of Rescues

"The men are safe, this time," a voice Cullen could not mistake for anyone else rang out just after the doors to their little war room banged open.

He looked up and could feel the breath leave his body at the state she was in. For the first time, he was grateful she was different from the other Circle Mages and didn't wear the normal robes with how…wet she was. Even as it was, with her leather duster and light mail and leather armor, with just how _sopping_ wet she was, they both clung to and were weighted down by the water. And with how she shivered…

_Maker's breath_ , he needed to get a hold of himself.

He cleared his throat at the same time Leliana elbowed him in the stomach, and he couldn't stop his blush. The fact that their spymaster had caught on to him was little comfort, even though he knew she _knew_ everything. "Have the men arrived?"

"Yes. We left them at the barracks. Dry clothes, warm food, and Adan says they should be in top shape soon." His gaze snapped to the left of Trevelyan, noticing Cassandra for the first time. Now that his gaze wasn't drowning in, well, her drowned looks, he noticed Iron Bull and Varric behind her, just as soaked and patched up as she.

"I see. Then is there a reason for such an intrusion?" Leliana asked, not bothering to hide her amusement at their appearance.

"Four strapping and soaked people in front of you, and _that's_ the question you asked?" Bull's comment received only a chuckle from Leliana and sighs from Cullen and Cassandra.

Trevelyan shook her head and pulled out a somewhat-waterlogged parchment roll from her duster. "Actually, it was on our way out that we discovered something of a short cut. It's how we just about beat back the troops though they left first."

Cullen watched, just as enraptured as the first time she unrolled one of her hand-made maps for him, as she produced a map made by a different hand, but with adjuncts made by her. He was becoming fast acquainted with her writing and style to recognize it so easily, but he brushed that minor concern aside. He knew Cassandra's, Leliana's, and Josephine's handwriting just as well.

"It could take weeks off any trip to Haven from the South," she continued. "And I think it's best to share it with the rest of Thedas, instead of keeping it to ourselves."

Josephine leaned over it, blocking his view. "Yes, a wise decision. We could use it as a show of good faith, garner more support from the nobility for not only clearing a path, but sharing it with the rest of Thedas."

Cassandra nodded. "So we thought as well as we came here."

"I wanted to get it to you now, so you all could decide the best way of doing so before it became too much later."

He heard Leliana chuckle from beside him, and rested his hand on his sword pommel (again, not missing how Treveylan's eyes noted the movement). "You know you are always welcome to bring such things to us at any time of day or night. Some of us, perhaps, more so than others."

And there it was: the teasing. As jaded and reserved as Leliana was now, he remembered more of a teasing, lively young woman of a decade ago. The same kind of person who would tease him in such a way. Thankfully, he noticed only Varric really caught on to it with how he chortled.

Trevelyan, he couldn't tell. She ducked her head and smoothed out the edges of the map. "Still… I'll leave this matter in your hands. I think we've shared enough of the Fallow Mire's water on the floor with you."

Varric made a noise and was the first one to turn to leave. "Finally. It's going to take a week's worth of bathing to get the smell of bog out of my nose." Cullen almost breathed a sigh of relief when nothing else was said, but then he saw Varric stop. "Though, I vote we stop taking Tiny along. Whenever he comes with us, somehow we all end up wet and wanting something more."

_Maker_ , he thought too soon.

Bull laughed loudly and thumped his fist against the door, and Cassandra made a disgusted noise before brushing past all of them.

"It just can't be helped, dwarf. It's just what happens whenever the Bull and redheads get together." And then, that giant of a Qunari had the gall to wink back toward them, though Cullen was sure it was more toward Leliana. Perhaps he was wrong, and even The Iron Bull caught on to the teasing happening.

But he only truly focused on how Trevelyan rolled her eyes even as a smirk began to tug at her lips. Without saying a word, she inclined her head toward them before walking away from the table without a word.

"The Bull loves redheads, but they don't love him, eh, Tiny?" Varric said as Trevelyan passed them.

"Yes, well, this redhead just wants a hot bath and a warm drink."

"Depends, Boss, on how hot you want that bath."

To Cullen's great relief, her reply to Bull's offer was a firm, "No," and to keep walking away and close the outer door to the Chantry proper.

"Come on, Tiny, I'll buy you a drink to dampen the pain of rejection," Varric said as he ushered the Qunari out the room. "And let me tell you, it never ends well when pursuing a woman already in love with someone else. Trust me."

To Cullen's great disappointment, Bull shut the door after that comment. Trevelyan was in love? Had he completely misread her flirting, her comments, even her actions toward him? It wasn't right nor fair. He didn't take her for a woman to lie or seek comfort elsewhere.

"Commander?" Josephine nudged him this time, snapping his attention back to the map and reports, and her newest map.

"Hm?"

"You were asking something before the Herald came in?" The teasing lilt of the question let him know exactly what she knew.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just get it over with now."

And he was met with the twin giggles of two girls about to enjoy juicy gossip. He would know, he had two sisters who would do the exact same thing in his youth.

"So, are you going to offer _your_ services in warming her bath?" Leliana asked.

He wished she hadn't asked that question. He had been doing so well _not_ thinking about her bathing and whatever else she might do, but the world seemed focused on trying to put the image in his mind. Not that he needed much prodding to think about it, just that he was trying to be respectful. Especially since he wasn't alone, and she had looked just so _miserable_ from how soaked she was.

"Why would I do that?" he asked in return, and was met with two disbelieving stares. "She is the Herald of Andraste, the face of the Inquisition, and a woman with her sights on someone already. She has enough keeping her warm."

Josephine shook her head and Leliana sighed. "Maker, you are blind."

"Are you both done now? I'd like to finish this meeting before nightfall."

Both women sighed and focused back on the tasks in front of them. "You are saved today, Commander. But know this conversation is far from being over."


	5. Of Plans and Drinks

"So while we wait for the nobility to convene and meet us at Therinfal Redoubt, what shall we do in the meantime?" Josephine asked after a moment of silence.

Just yesterday, the Herald and some of her companions burst into the War Room with news of a shortcut through the Fallow Mire. Just as she had requested of Cullen before she left, he did look into ways for them to finally get the attention of the Templar Order and approach them for help sealing the breach, with Josephine's help, of course. The woman had a way of working through the circles of nobility that he did not have the patience for, and their cause was better for it.

He watched as the young woman toyed with a few pawns, both off the map and on it. Cullen knew that fidgeting, she was planning to head out again even though she only just arrived back. Such was their life, and such was their cause. There was no rest for the wicked or those determined to bring them to justice.

"How long do you think it will take the nobility to mobilize, Josephine?" she asked, and Cullen did not like where she was looking. It was too far in Orlais, a week's worth of travel just to get there if they were lucky.

"A few weeks, if we are lucky. We can still head to Redcliffe Castle, though, if that is not to your liking, Herald."

She shook her head. "No. No, it's fine. We all know that is a trap, at least this way, they will risk angering the nobility of Orlais if they try such a thing."

"All right." Cullen watched as Josephine signed off on a missive, likely the petition for help from some of the allies they had gathered and hand it off to Leliana.

"And now, Herald?" he asked when the silence looked to drag on.

When she met his eyes, he noticed just how _tired_ she seemed. Perhaps as tired as they all felt, and they were the ones who stayed in Haven and led from behind a desk while she led from the front. Soon they—Leliana, Josephine, Cassandra, and he—would have to sit down and discuss a true leader for the Inquisition. And for him, Lady Treveylan would be at the top of an extremely short list for that position. She already led by example, she often settled their disputes over how to proceed, she made the hard choices they couldn't agree on, and she commanded the respect of many.

But she looked away quickly, as she always seemed to do these days, and looked to Cassandra. "This is perhaps a great time to look into those shards we have been finding throughout Fereldan, so far. Especially since we have had their possible place of origin scouted out for a while now."

Leliana nodded. "A good idea. Who knows what secrets they hold? Not to mention the magic that concealed them for so long."

"Cassandra, Sera, Vivienne and myself will go," Trevelyan said as she fiddled with a few unused pawns. He watched as she placed them in various places. Two near to Val Royeaux, and one near Kirkwall. He sighed when he saw the Kirkwall pawn, knowing exactly who it was for and why. "Bull, Varric, and Blackwall can fill you all in better about their own requests which is why they're staying behind."

"Of course, Your Worship," Josephine said, unofficially concluding everything for the day.

Cullen had not had a chance to talk to Trevelyan yet in weeks away from the prying eyes of others, and walked a little faster than normal out of the War Room in the hopes of snagging her attention for a little bit. Even though they rarely moved beyond small talk, or talk about the Inquisition, he relished their little chats. Even when they were about work, he found them refreshing. Though that could be simply because he found _her_ to be a refreshing person to be around.

It made him almost feel bad. It was hard not to notice that others found her refreshing and wonderful to talk to as well, and he could not think of a time he saw her where she wasn't listening to some grievance or running an errand for someone. As much of a workaholic as he was, even he took some time each day for himself, and he wondered if she ever did. It caused guilt to nestle into his heart whenever he sent out requisition requests for the troops, or even stole her away for a few moments every now and then. But not enough to stop doing so, the benefit of being near her outweighed the guilt.

"My lady—"

"Herald."

Cassandra reached her first and grabbed her arm, leading her over toward Vivienne. But his voice apparently hadn't been drowned out by the Seeker for she looked over her shoulder toward him with contrition. She mouthed a, "Sorry," his way, but he waved it off with a smile.

No harm, no foul.

He figured they wanted to leave as soon as possible in order to get there and back without making the nobility wait. Or else they wouldn't hear the end of it from said nobility _and_ Josephine.

"What is it with heroines trying to change the world falling for broody and troubled blondes?"

Cullen couldn't stop the sigh that fell from his lips when he heard Varric and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't think you know what you're talking about."

"Oh," Varric laughed, "I think I got seven years more experience than you in this department."

And that would be the starting point of today's headache for him, if his previous encounters with Varric were any indication.

Cullen stumbled forward, caught off-guard by the thump to his lower back from the dwarf. "C'mon, Curly," Varric said when he finally glanced down to see what he wanted. "Since they're leaving us for girl time in the desert, so I'm rounding up the guys for a night of diamondback and drinking in the tavern. And since Chuckles won't join in, we need another to make it even."

"I can't imagine why Solas won't join in." The sarcasm rolled off his tongue too easily for the person he used to be. He figured he really had been spending too much time with Varric recently. But it was not an unkind change.

"Oho! The Commander _can_ sass!" Varric laughed. "Remember, tonight. Don't hide away in the barracks, or else I'll just have to have Bull drag you out in front of your men."

Cullen raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I'd like to see him try."

But Varric was already leaving the Chantry, and waved a hand back toward him in dismissal.

Nonetheless, he found himself at the tavern that night. It had been too long since he had taken a night to himself as he couldn't remember when he last did. That could possibly be the lyrium withdrawal talking, but he has pretty positive it was just him becoming too engrossed in training recruits, finding the best men to send out on missions, and trying not to think about Lady Trevelyan as anything other than a friend and a colleague.

However, he couldn't remember what time he stumbled out of the tavern with an equally drunk Blackwall back to the barracks or just how much he had had to drink between Varric's stories and Bull's tales. But he did remember waking up and finding a written apology from said woman who had been plaguing his thoughts more and more recently, along with a promise to talk when she returned. Suddenly, he wished he had stayed in last night if just to have a few moments alone with her.

And— _Maker_ , perhaps Varric was right and he needed to get a hobby.


	6. Of Preparations

A heavy and deep sighed echoed through the War Room scant seconds after it opened and closed. Cullen looked up from the reports that came in that day and night to see just who decided to seek refuge in their strategy room. He watched with equal parts amusement and concern when he saw the Herald leaning her forehead against the door she just closed. "A bit late for a briefing, wouldn't you say, Herald?"

She rolled her head to the side to look his way, never fully removing it from the door. "Oh, you know me, always causing trouble." He caught the side of her smile and noticed just how tired it still seemed.

He stepped away from the War Table as she finally left the door. "Sorry, I didn't realize anyone would still be in here this late." She paused, and he could almost see a teasing lilt overtake the tiredness in her voice and smile. "Do you ever sleep, Commander?"

He chuckled and leaned against the table. "I could ask the same of you. Here you've just returned this afternoon, and are to leave first thing in the morning for Therinfal Redoubt. Yet, here we are."

"I just…" She stopped, catching herself it seemed. He caught her little slip-up and watched her cheeks flush just enough to know she knew he noticed. "I couldn't sleep. I'm worried about tomorrow." A half-lie, he could tell. He was sure she couldn't, but not for the reason she said, not fully.

"Of course," he said. "We are sending you in rather blind. I wish it wasn't so." But he wouldn't call her on her lie. While he had a feeling—or rather, _had the hope_ —they could at least be called friends, maybe not _good_ friends, he also understood the need to keep some things to oneself. It would be rather hypocritical of him to call her on her own lies and omissions when he did the same thing. Even now, only three other people knew of his decision and struggle with lyrium withdrawal, his own reason for being awake at the moment.

She sighed and walked over to him, leaning over the table. "I only wish we knew what to expect there. What the Lord Seeker is thinking."

"Yes. On the one hand, we have mages in forced servitude to Tevinter. And on the other, Templars being led by a Lord Seeker who has changed his position and viewpoints rather quickly and drastically, doing who knows what else. They're not quite the choices we had hoped for, with either group." He observed her from his peripherals, noticing how she still hadn't fully relaxed. If anything, she tensed even more. At least, he never claimed to be the best at comforting others. Unfortunately, there was no training for that in the Order.

"Both sides are desperate," she said after a moment too long of quiet contemplation. He made a noise of agreement; that much had become obvious weeks ago when she first encountered both sides in Val Royeaux. "And I have an awful feeling that after tomorrow, we'll know just how desperate."

"Leliana has forward scouts surrounding the area around Haven, and I have my own closer to the village. If anyone, mage or Templar, comes here, we'll know it. And be able to plan accordingly." He leaned closer and placed a hand on her shoulder; it was the best comfort he could give her without pushing the boundaries of their relationship. And when she leaned into his touch, he couldn't deny the swell of happiness he felt.

"Maker, I hope so." She sighed again, but made no effort to move away.

"You should get some rest, Herald. You've a big day ahead," he said. He moved his hand away finally, after it seemed a moment too long. To him, at least. There was no way he wanted her to think he was trying to take advantage of her, or that he was even thinking about what she might think. Never mind that he wasn't doing such a thing at all.

He heard her push away from the table, and he did as well. Then, she moved quicker than he thought she could and stood in front of him. "Thank you, Commander." And there was that smile again: the one too wide, too soft, and showing hints of teeth. He didn't quite know what to make of it, but couldn't ignore the softness to it. A flush started to show and he cleared his throat, looking away.

"Come, I'll walk you back to your home." He hoped she didn't notice just how uncomfortable that was for him to say. Because there was a huge chance she would misinterpret the reason why; _he_ was sure he was misinterpreting the reason why.

"If you're sure," she said, her smile falling as quick as it came. Sadly, he didn't feel as relieved as he thought he would be.

"I am." He walked around her to open the door, holding it open for him. "Besides, you're on the way."

They walked side-by-side through the Chantry and Haven, enjoying the quiet stillness of the night. Neither knew that that would be the first and last time he would get to walk her to the home she had been given, or that their quiet peace and normalcy would be shattered all because of one disastrous trip to Therinfal Redoubt.


	7. Of Blizzards and Regret

Cullen hesitated for as long as he could. The signal flare held in his hands. He knew he should fire it, he _should have_ fired it five minutes ago, but he couldn't. His palms sweat just holding it, and his hands shook whenever he grabbed the match.

Hesitation. Fear. _Hope_.

What kept him delaying the inevitable, the planned, were the same things that made Leliana pull her forward scouts as soon as one went missing instead of looking into it. The same things that made Haven so easily overrun in the first moments of the siege. And now what put the lives of the many at risk for the life of one.

"Commander, we can't wait any longer." Leliana took the match from his hands and lit the flare herself. He knew it had to be done, and why she did it herself. But that did not make the decision easier to live with.

_"We're overrun. To hit the enemy we'd bury Haven." He remembered her trying to reason with him. She was always trying to get others to follow the logical path. Perhaps she already knew that he had thought that option through to its unsatisfactory end._

_"This is not survivable now. The only choice left is how spitefully we end this."_

Maker, he hated how he had even thought to say that to her; how he could have even thought that to die there, in a Chantry with her, would have been worth it?

"Ah! Cassandra!" Josephine ran passed Leliana and him, toward Haven. He shared only a brief look with the spymaster before they both ran after her, leaving the survivors for a moment with the trust that they could find their way for a little while.

It took seconds to run into the little group, but he noticed only how Lady Trevelyan was not there. Cassandra, Blackwall, and Bull stood tiredly, defeated, covered in the blood of Venatori and mages and themselves. But no Herald.

"Where is she?" Cullen didn't realize he said the words until they were already out his mouth.

"The Boss shoved us out of the battlefield when that thing showed up," Bull said.

And then the sky roared. Cullen had been on enough battlefields to know the sound of a trebuchet hitting its mark. All looked back toward Haven, despite being unable to see the town from their vantage point, but the avalanche could be seen, heard and felt.

"We…we should see to the survivors." It was Josephine who broke the silence with eyes wet with tears. Her head was bowed, so Cullen couldn't see if she actually started to cry, as she walked past them. Her companions followed, then Leliana. But Cullen stayed a second longer, watching and waiting for a sign.

But there was none. And the Inquisition could not afford to lose another leader at the moment.

_"And when the mountain falls? What about you?"_ _he had asked, though he had a terrible feeling about her answer._

Yet she only looked away. As she always did when she was going to lie, or evade answering. This time, she chose to keep her silence.

As he marched through the snow with the surviving members of the Inquisition, Cullen could think only of the look on her face. He shouldn't have been surprised, he shouldn't have even been at a loss for words as she was doing what she had been doing from the beginning: making the hard choices the rest of them could only squabble over. He had seen her look only so grim once, a little more than a month ago (had it _really_ been so short a time? Sometimes it felt like she had been around longer than that), when she returned from her secretive mission.

More than that, she never met his eyes. She couldn't even look him in the face after she came to her own private decision to face them, to sacrifice herself. He was not a man who believed in goodbyes, and she was proving herself to be the same kind of woman, but in that moment—as she walked passed him to leave the Chantry, to face death—he wanted to stop her, to say goodbye. To make her look at him just one last time, to say with that teasing lilt he enjoyed to, _"Stop worrying, or_ I'll _have to worry that you really are that doting parent Varric believes you to be."_

Instead, he stupidly told her to throw herself in harm's way; to catch the attention of what could be an archdemon. At least, he tried to assay his conscience, she had a Grey Warden with her and they could kill archdemons.

_"If we are to have a chance—if_ you _are to have a chance—let that thing hear you."_

His last words to her haunted him when they finally made camp to wait out the blizzard. With only the howling wind and the heavy despair pressing in in every corner of their makeshift camp, everything he did wrong came to haunt him. His last piece of advice to her, specifically.

He had never fully understood before the meaning of the phrase, "you never know what you have until you don't," until this moment. There was no way he could continue to deny his growing feelings for her, just as there was no way he could deny that when imagining the future, one without her smile and maps and flirting would be a very bleak one. He hadn't even called her by her name once, even though it was really the only thing she had asked of him for herself.

The members of her little rag-tag band—her _friends_ —had to feel the same way, if the way they listlessly moved around the campfire was any indication. Even Varric and Sera sat by the fire with no stories or laughter. Only that weird…boy? Spirit?...paced around, gripping and ungripping his hands as if holding his daggers, muttering to himself.

He stood and walked closer, pushing aside his feelings in order to investigate. While he would understand, the last thing anyone needed was someone having a breakdown. Especially someone as dangerous as whatever he was. He felt the pommel of his sword under his hand and pushed aside memories that he wouldn't get to have again.

"Cold…So cold. Why does it have to be so cold?" He stopped his advance when he heard the odd choice of words. "Cold. Hurts. Maker, tell me I'm heading in the right direction."

He watched as the mysterious boy stopped his pacing finally, and turned to look back the way they came. "What is it?" Cullen asked, never taking his eyes off him or his hand off his sword.

"Is anyone waiting?" he said. "She's looking for us. But she won't make it."

Cullen's voice caught in his throat. But Cassandra was there suddenly, possibly having kept her own eye on the boy. "You can't mean—"

He nodded. "She's out there. She survived. But only just."

"Can you find her?" He stepped closer to the boy.

"Yes. She's not far." And as if that was the permission he needed, the boy strode over to the edge of camp, back the way they came. He turned and followed after him, and he briefly heard Cassandra follow after him. He jogged passed many bemused and hopeful stares, but no one else bothered to follow that he could hear.

The boy began to jog as well, staying just ahead of them no matter how Cullen sped up. "Embers. Recent? Can't keep doing this… Too cold. Hurts. I can't."

He sped up hearing that, finally overtaking the boy and seeing the mountainous break that marked the very edge of their camp. He saw a figure through the lingering snowfall and knew immediately who it was, if only because of the glow coming from her hand. "There! It's her!"

He briefly recognized that Cassandra said something, but he focused on sprinting to her once he saw her begin to fall. Her knees fell through the snow, but he managed to catch her before the rest of her could fall into the snow. He had known and seen just how slight she was in build, but holding her in his arms made him realize just how true that was. He was sure his armor weighed more than she did, and he could feel the chill of her clothes through it.

Her teeth chattered and her eyes fluttered closed. He nudged her, not unkindly, but enough to get her to open her eyes again. "Stay with us, Evelyn. You can't sleep just yet." He stood with her in his arms and nodded toward the camp. "Cassandra, get back and inform Solas. She needs healing." And he began a longer trek back to the camp as he tried not to injure her further, and the boy walked beside him, keeping her awake.

She was safe now. His relief and his regret caused him to hold her all the tighter, and to keep a vigil from afar after she left his arms and was swarmed by so many others. Just like every time she came back to them. He could live with that if it meant she kept coming back.


	8. Of Arguments

"You've only just survived Haven, and have hardly rested. You're not leading a scouting party!" Cullen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard Cassandra's voice echo through their little camp. It was far too early for another argument to break out among them, considering they only just stopped arguing about where to go a few hours before.

This argument, though, was one that could easily end up with the Herald dog-piled by not just Cassandra, but Leliana, Josephine, and, he would admit it, himself as well. Perhaps even a few of her companions, like Blackwall or Bull. He was actually surprised it was Solas who gave her the idea for such a thing after only one night of fitful rest and healing. While Cullen did not doubt Solas' skill involving healing and magic, even he knew a person needed more than one night of rest after being found in the condition she was in.

"I'm fine, Cassandra. But if we continue to stay here, then everyone else won't be!"

He ran his hand down the rest of his face as said woman's voice rose. He had rarely heard her raise her voice, as she always made sure to stay level even in the face of adversity. And usually, she only lost that when someone else was in danger. But they were all still testy and too shaken by what had happened to have civil disagreements about anything.

Solas came to stand beside him. "I would intervene myself, but I have a feeling that will only end poorly for me."

Despite his tiredness, his agitation, his lingering anger at himself and the elf for even suggesting a scouting trip to the north, Cullen chuckled once. "I think we all share your opinion on that." He nodded to the area around their campsite, as all of those in her inner circle stayed just on the fringes, watching, but not daring to interfere. Both women were stubborn and prideful, and clung to their ideals with fervor. To step between them when both were on edge just as much as, if not more so than, the rest was not a smart move.

"I only hope they do not kill each other, and the rest of the camp settling it."

Cullen sighed again. "Tell me about it."

But someone needed to do it. They had been having her make the hard decisions from the beginning, having her go out into the world with little rest and hope she fixed the problems plaguing people everywhere. The consequences for doing so were something he hoped he could bear.

He stepped up to them just as Cassandra got in Trevelyan's face. "Your life is not something the rest of us take lightly! Stop throwing it away!"

"You've all been content to let me do it before!"

Quickly inserting himself between the two, he pushed Cassandra back. "Enough! Both of you. We've already agreed to this venture, and fought enough last night."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, a frown setting heavily enough on her face that he worried she might pull her sword on him. " _I_ never agreed to this."

He felt Trevelyan lean around him. "Because it's my decision!"

"I said enough!" He rubbed his forehead, feeling another headache ready to emerge. It was too early and too soon for such a fight. "Arguing about this venture will do nothing but prolong it. The sooner it's done, the sooner we can move past it." He crossed his arms when he could tell that neither woman was ready to back down and let this go. They were just like the rest of them were the other night, looking for an excuse to lash out at the pain they were all feeling.

"Go take it out on the recruits," he said, not flinching away from Cassandra's harsh stare. "Now."

Cassandra made a noise of disgust before throwing up her hands and stomping away. He didn't take his eyes off her even as he said, "Show's over. Back to work!" The rest of the camp jumped and hurriedly returned to their tasks, not wanting to give another leader another reason to be pissed.

Then, he finally turned around to face down the source of the morning's problems as she sighed in what he could only call relief. He had saved her for last, because he wasn't sure how long his own anger could last in the face of the one person he was so glad to still have among them. The one person he cared for more than their titles allowed. "Don't be so relieved. Do you even have an idea of what she—of what anyone of us are feeling at the moment?"

She sighed, blowing an errant piece of hair that didn't make it into her normal bun. He wasn't surprised. "Of course I—"

"No, I don't think you do," he cut her off. "We watched you stay behind to save us. We found you near death. And now after only a night of scant rest and healing, you want to traipse about the Frostbacks looking for Maker knows what, Maker knows where!" He sighed yet again, a new record for being awake only an hour. Then, quieter, he continued, for her ears only. "Your ribs are still bandaged so as not to undo Solas' work. And yet, that's exactly what you're going to do. And with his blessing."

"It's fine," she said. He noticed the way her jaw tensed as she looked at him. "You all will be following right behind me, and he is coming with me. If anything happens, he'll be right there to fix it. And you will be there too, to fight it if it's too much." Then she looked away with a heavy sigh, and she finally relaxed her jaw, her voice dropping to match his. "This needs to happen. If there's a chance of a new base, then we have to seize it. The people _need_ it."

"That doesn't mean any of us have to like it." He gestured around them, to her companions that still kept one eye on her. "You don't realize what you mean to…to everyone. Think before you act so foolishly."

She looked back at him, her face resolute and just as grim as the moment she made her decision to meet the Elder One face-to-face. "I am. I _have_."

And he knew the truth of that, just as well as he knew his hands. "I know that. I'm asking you to see it from their perspective."

She sighed, averting her eyes to the horizon and losing that grim determination he both admired and detested. "I know. And sorry."

He half-heartedly smirked. "Don't apologize to me. That's what you and Cassandra should be doing." He turned to head back to his own tent, to prepare for the march behind her and Solas.

But she grabbed his forearm, stopping him from taking more than two steps away from her. When he glanced over his shoulder at her, he could only just see the slightest blush on her cheeks as she stared at the ground away from him. "Solas told me about last night, Commander. So… Well, I just wanted to say thank you. For…for everything you did."

With his free hand, he rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "I simply beat Cassandra there, Your Worship. No need for thanks." And he walked away from her as fast as he could, thanking the Maker again for all the work that needed to be done so he couldn't make more of a fool of himself in front of her.


	9. Of Leaders and Impressions

It was a long two weeks Cullen spent following someone instead of leading men for once. Not only was the snow deep enough to impede everyone but the stoutest draft horses, but the mountains were disorientating. After the first five peaks they passed, even he noticed they were all starting to look alike. But Solas and Trevelyan never wavered.

And that was the other thing that made his days long: watching her stumble and wade through the snow out ahead of them. He knew just what shape she had been in when they found her all those many days ago, knew what still needed to be healed, just like the rest of her inner circle. So to see her out there, in such conditions when she should still be on bed rest was difficult. But all of them knew better than to try and stop her now.

That was why when Skyhold came into view, he saw it as a relief in more than one way. Shelter, defenses, _rest_. Or so he thought from far away. When they actually entered the castle, his relief fast became a headache.

A ransacked main hall, arrows still in the roof tiles, towers destroyed, all sorts of animals nesting in covered corners, and no usable buildings whatsoever. It would take _months_ , if not years, to fully fix it. Already Josephine, Leliana and he were making mental notes of everything they would need to fix. They each had their own areas of expertise which meant there would be no real stepping of toes in this, aside from manpower and coin. It was why they needed a leader, and thankfully, that discussion on the way to Skyhold was a quick one. Like him, the three women had the same person in mind for a leader.

After everything they had all just lived through, after everything they knew they would still need to endure, making the announcement of Trevelyan as leader of the Inquisition was just the morale boost everyone needed. She held the sword like a natural, still unwavering in her desire to end the chaos the world suffered from.

With renewed determination, everyone went to work to clean up their new home. Naming a leader had been the easy part, now to clean up everything (and not just in Skyhold) would be the challenge.

Space was limited still as no place other than the main hall had yet to be deemed "livable" by anyone's standards, so when night fell, he took his work into the main hall. With debris everywhere, rotten drapery, and working candelabra, it was the only place to work in once night fell. Only Leliana, Josephine and Solas had really cleared out their own rooms and areas, on top of a library. As for everyone else… Well, that was just another task to add to his already extremely long list of tasks.

He sighed, sitting down at one of the sturdier tables and unrolling his outline of Skyhold and the problems left to him, it seemed, to sort out. Training regiments, patrols, scouts, guard shifts, barracks, an armory, a main area for his own use… It seemed to be never ending.

Just as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the headache he could feel building not only from stress, but the withdrawal and lack of sleep, a piece of paper was set in front of him. He opened one eye to see the familiar leather wear of Trevelyan. And it just occurred to him that he hadn't seen or been able to talk to her since she accepted the position, and he almost made a very embarrassing slip-up in revealing some of his deeper feelings toward her.

He stopped trying to will away his headache and turned to look at her, only to receive a sheepish smile in return. "You look like you could use some help. Well, sleep. But I figure that won't happen for any of us for a while."

"Both would be welcome just about now." Curious, and more than a little hopeful, he glanced down at the paper she gave him only to find two more maps. One was of the Exalted Plains, as he was sure she just arrived from there not too long ago, and the other was of Skyhold.

"All right," she said from the other side of the table. He wondered when she moved, and how he didn't hear it. It likely meant he needed sleep or lyrium more than he thought. "What should we start with?"

At how eager she looked, despite still having road filth on her face and tiredness lacing every word, he couldn't stop his smile. He pushed her map of Skyhold into the center of the table. "Leliana, Josephine and myself have a list of amenities we need, but no real consensus on where to put them. Thankfully, the prison took care of itself." He rifled through his papers, pulling out the one that listed all the services and amenities they needed or would like to have and handed it over to her. "Once that's sorted, I can send men over to start clearing and making the necessary repairs."

She took the list from him, her fingers grazing his own and warming them. He cleared his throat and looked down at his papers, trying to ignore the tender feeling that aroused in him. But an amused cough had him glancing to the side.

He sighed and glowered. He forgot about the troublesome dwarf pretty much staking out the fireplace nearby for his own little area. When Varric noticed his glower, he had the gall to smile and mimicked the motion of zipping his mouth.

"Well, what did you have in mind? And the others?" Her soft question brought him out of his annoyance at always being caught making a fool of himself by Varric. But this was a very thankful distraction. He leaned forward and began pointing out areas that were suggested and debating the benefits between them.

The night passed and dawn approached without either noticing as she made decisions and they debated the finer points of having an armory and a tavern so close together, and why the stables would need to be a little further away from everything else since they were in Orlais, inviting mainly nobility…

She sighed and stretched in her chair, popping a few of her joints and Cullen could only watch in quiet appreciation. He had never been one to ogle a woman, but there was something about her… And then with how she stretched her torso out, her arms above her head, and that satisfied smile on her face—

He groaned and rubbed his face. He _needed_ to get a grip on himself and focus on things other than how to make her look like that more.

"I'm sorry, I've kept you up all night," she said, likely interpreting his groan as one of displeasure.

He didn't have the courage to correct her. "It's quite all right. With everything you've helped with, this will make the rest of the week that much easier."

She smiled at him, that same wide, happy smile he had seen only a few times before and never at anyone else. "Anything to make your life easier, Commander." Then she stood. "I'll go inform Bull and his men to start taking care of that tavern they want so much."

He nodded and watched her go, before gathering all his things and heading for the war room where he was sure Leliana and Josephine were waiting. If he could get through it without any teasing, it would be a continued streak of good luck that he wasn't sure meant something good.

"And the Inquisitor? Did you both forget to see about where she will be staying?" Josephine asked, not even bothering to hide her undertone. And Cullen knew his luck at not being teased by either woman was up. It was a good three days and two hours, though.

"She said all she wanted was someplace quiet that wouldn't be a bother," Cullen replied. And that was truly all she had said about the matter when he breached the subject. He let it drop with that answer as he learned very early that she was not the most comfortable talking about herself. Plus as a Templar, he knew what kind of rooms and privacy she would have been used to. Some place quiet and out of the way fit in perfectly with that.

"And she mentioned, jokingly, that she would like a marble bath to wash away the filth of the last few weeks." Josephine sighed and Cullen stared determinedly at the reports before him, trying not to think about that comment. "It won't do at all."

"Why not? She's a simple woman."

"No, she's not," Leliana interjected. "Not anymore. She's still thinking she's a simple circle mage, not the leader of a military and political force. Simplicity in her quarters will not do to impress any nobility or kingdoms, Commander."

"And this is why I leave the Game to you ladies." He smirked at them. "She makes so few requests of us, I would like to see them followed through." Even though he knew that was slightly hypocritical of him. She requested once that he call her by name, and he still had yet to actually do so.

Josephine made a few notes on her ledger. "Trust me, I know. By the time she returns again, I shall have found a way to fulfill her requests."

In two weeks, when she and her companions returned from the Hinterlands and the Exalted Plains again, the look on her face and the true gratitude in her voice when they showed her, her room was worth all the trouble and extra shifts he made his men pull to have it ready and perfect.


	10. Of Cognizance

The three reports and the two notifications spoke little to Cullen of what had actually occurred during the Inquisitor's last outing that took her, Solas, Bull and Dorian from the Exalted Plains to the Storm Coast before taking them back to the Hinterlands before home again. The five different papers told him bits of the story of what had happened, and he knew she ended up returning back to them on her own without any of the companions she left with, but it was written with such a disengaged, factual hand that he initially thought they were reports from Cassandra. It was only when he took a second, closer look that he recognized the flowing script that told him those reports belonged to Trevelyan.

He wished he would have looked closer at them before tossing them into his "less important pile of crap" to be sorted through after the men had been run through their training exercises, patrols debriefed, and the strange case of missing daggers that he felt like he had solved but couldn't quite recall…

And now, it was late enough that even the tavern had closed. He would know, being just two towers away from it. He sighed and brought a hand up to massage his temple. Between the stress of the position and the stress of lyrium withdrawal, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to his breaking point, especially the longer he went without sleep. If only there were a few more hours in a day…

He sighed and looked out a window toward the main hall. Like always, there was still light in the main hall, and in Josephine's room just off to the side. Even the aviary still had whispers of light breaking through the tower windows. And also, at the top of the main hall, light still shined in the Inquisitor's quarters as well. As it always did whenever she was there and not on the road. _What a group of stubborn fools_ , he thought as none of them seemed to ever sleep.

He gathered the five reports in question and began the cold and quiet trek across the battlements. He took the shortcut that would lead him through Solas' mural room, and had one report confirmed just from that. The elf was gone, having "time alone", in her written words. The trek across the main hall to the stairs leading to her room was just as quiet and quick, and he made a note to step up guard patrols during the graveyard shift.

Upon reaching her door, he knocked three times and only entered when he heard her, faintly, invite him in. He looked for her before he even made it to the final step, expecting her to be at her cluttered desk. But she wasn't there.

"Inquisitor?" he asked, quickly glancing around. He was certain he had heard someone— _her—_ invite him to come in.

He heard a sheaf of papers fall from his right followed by a soft curse. He smirked and looked toward where she was, only to have the breath taken from him.

There was always a certain professional distance he, mainly, tried to keep with her because it was all too easy for him to imagine kissing her, embracing her, and other less than professional thoughts. He had never seen her with her hair down, or seen her outside of the leathers she had been gifted once she was no longer a prisoner or her armor and battle leathers. And now…

He couldn't even look away. Every last line of professionalism felt like it had been shattered.

She was out of her normal leathers and mail, likely in her sleeping clothes if she was even going to go to sleep, with a dressing robe. But neither of them did anything to hide her figure and curves, not like her armor did. It was easier to forget that she was a beautiful woman without something to remind him of that fact. Even her hair was down from the bun she normally kept it tied back in, and he noticed for the first time that she had long hair. He _figured_ she had long hair, but never really took note of it. The firelight played across it, turning the red color into something softer, something more intimate…

And it awoke such a yearning deep in him that it caught him off guard. Instead of looking deeper into it— _now_ was not the time, perhaps there _never_ would be a time—he cleared his throat and did his best to look away. "If this is a bad time…"

"No," she said, quicker than he thought she would. It almost sounded like she thought he would bolt at the first chance. Maybe he would. "No," she said again, slower. "I was just…going over some things. Thinking." He could hear the smile in her voice. "It's hard to find a moment for that, it seems."

"I apologize, I would have found you earlier had I actually looked at your reports." He held up said pieces of paper as proof, like he needed it. He finally looked back over at her and walked a bit closer. She had closed and laced up her robe, but there was no trace of a smile on her face.

"Ah, yes. Those." In the place of her quiet joking from moments before there was that grim determination back that he rarely enjoyed seeing on her face or hearing in her voice. It reminded him of what could have been their last moments in Haven.

"You didn't even write them in your usual detail." He stepped closer again, close enough for her to snatch said reports out of his hand and toss them into the fireplace. "You know there are other copies with Josephine and Leliana, not to mention the war room?" He tried to joke, but she didn't even smile.

"Yes, but that was therapeutic," was all she said instead. Had she said that at any other time, for any other reason, he knew it would have been with her normal teasing lilt and a smile just as mischievous. But not this time.

He sat down in the only other chair near her. "What happened?" Unlike when they first met and their relationship could only be classified as a "tenuous acquaintance," he would not let this matter slip without her talking about it.

"You've already read what happened."

He stared at her, hoping she would turn and meet his gaze so that he may ferret out the truth more easily from her, but she never did. Normally he would joke about how she was spending too much time around Dorian if she's picked up the Tevinter pastime of staring moodily into fires, but he knew it wouldn't go over well. "Yes, I read about the _outcomes_. A spirit freed, a family reunion, the Chargers gone, a Qunari alliance. But none of them explain why you returned alone without Solas, Dorian or Bull, and why none of them have returned yet."

She was quiet for a long enough time that he almost thought she wasn't going to answer, but he knew better. She was reliving the moments, trying to find the words to explain it. And he would wait. After all she did, after all she had the patience to shift through so many requests from friends and strangers alike.

His silence was rewarded when she began to tell the tale of their ill-fated trip from the Exalted Plains to the Storm Coast to the Hinterlands. He listened as she spoke of how the spirit was Solas' friend turned demon by a cruel summoning, of how he left to be alone when she stopped him from killing the humans responsible. Then they, sans Solas, went to the Storm Coast to secure a Qunari alliance. And that, too, went wrong as the Chargers were overwhelmed. She could not ask the men to die, but more than that, she could not ask Bull to become Tal-Vasoth or to throw away such an alliance. Bull stayed behind for his own reasons as well. And at the tavern in Redcliffe, Dorian met his father and she made him stay and talk to him. So he stayed behind in order to do just that.

"They'll return, you'll see," he said after she finished. As so many professional lines had been crossed in his mind, he threw the rest of it away and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in comfort. She smiled in return, finally looking at him.

"I know. I just…feel like I've made all the wrong decisions with this." Then the smile was gone and she looked away, but she did not pull her hand away. "Those men did deserve to die for what they did. And the Chargers were good men, men worthy of living. And I promised Dorian he could leave whenever he wanted to. Instead…"

"No. You made sound decisions. Don't doubt that. It's easy to look back and wonder, but what's done is done. They'll see the wisdom in what you decided soon, if they don't already."

This time, she squeezed his hand and he looked back at her in time to see her smile. It was that wide smile she gave him in private moments like this that he could never quite decipher because he simply didn't want to think about what that might mean— _could_ mean. He cleared his throat and stood quickly, her hand falling from his, or the other way around.

"I'll, um… I will explain to Josephine and Leliana what happened in the morning if you would like to take that time to wait for your companions to return."

Her smile dimmed, but he could still feel the fondness in it too much to feel fully comfortable. "Thank you, Commander."


	11. Of Rumors and Distractions

"You've known her longer than I have, Commander, so tell me. Is she always so… So _good_?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

To be honest, Cullen hadn't noticed that Dorian had slipped into his office. He had an open door policy, so he fast learned to stop jumping or looking up every time someone entered his office. It seemed to happen every few minutes. And his men learned just as fast if they wanted his attention, all they had to do was say something. So while he had noticed that someone entered, they hadn't said anything for a long enough time that he forgot they were there.

And he most certainly hadn't expected them to be Dorian. The mage was one of the newer members of Trevelyan's inner circle of companions and with how quickly everything (quite literally) went up in flames at Haven, they never had much of a chance to talk. Not like her other companions and friends.

"Evelyn? Evie? Lady Trevelyan? The Inquisitor? The young lady with the glowing hand? Any of these ring a bell or should I grab her and bring her here for your viewing pleasure?" He watched as Dorian ticked off different names and titles for the woman who so often invaded his thoughts and nightmares, half-amused and half-confused.

"Yes, I know who you're talking about. I'm more wondering about what brought this on." Dorian's reply was a simple, complicated look. He could feel a flush start to appear on his cheeks as he remembered the events of the other day and night, or rather, the morning. "Oh. Right."

" _Oh_ , indeed, Commander."

He cleared his throat and glanced back down at his reports. They were all just troop movements and spy reports, a note about a request from someone named Fairbanks (an obvious nom-de-guerre) in the Emerald Graves, and decided they could all wait for however long this would take. "Well, to answer your question simply, yes. Yes, she is that 'good', as you put it."

Dorian sighed and sank into the only other chair with a grace no man should really have. "But how does she even find the time?"

Yet underneath that question, Cullen could hear another: _'Why does she care so much?'_

He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Even in Haven, she found time to run random errands for the townsfolk and volunteers. Not to mention the random acts she does everywhere she goes. I believe I recall a report from the Hinterlands about how she spent a day tracking down a Templar that had confiscated a wedding ring."

As he spoke, Dorian interlaced his fingers and rested his chin against them, sinking more and more into his pose. "I feel too sober to believe this."

Cullen chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling some tension leave him. "I know what you mean."

As if that was the magic phrase, Dorian dropped his hands and serious expression in favor of leaning back and resting an ankle on the other knee. "Since we're on the topic of our dearest Evie, I have to say I heard the most _interesting_ rumor."

And just like that, Cullen felt the tension come right back to him and settle back on his shoulders. Just one day, _one day_ , without some rumor or some demand or some teasing about her would be lovely. "I don't think I want to hear it. Nor should you spread it. She's a woman who values who privacy."

"Oh, trust me, I know," Dorian said. "But it's always good to indulge in what the common folk are saying." Before Cullen could say anything in defense, about how he _really_ didn't want to listen to anything (as he likely had heard it already), Dorian had waved his hand as if brushing away his misgivings. "Anyway, as I was saying, there was this interesting rumor. Not that they aren't all interesting, if for the sheer number of people she's been rumored to have been with." He didn't like the look that followed that. "Including yourself.

"Which leads me to this new, juicy rumor. About how more than one little birdy witnessed one of her advisers practically _floating_ away from her chambers in the wee hours of the morning the other day. And how she did the same just a few hours later. Tired, but with _such a glow_ about her."

To his credit, Dorian only grinned smugly _a little_ and Cullen held his gaze with, what he hoped was, a neutral expression. He knew exactly what Dorian was hinting at, knew that nothing untoward had happened because he was the adviser in question, but didn't dare to hope about the last part. Nor did he dare to rise to the bait. "The Inquisitor and her advisers often meet her in her room to further discuss matters related to the Inquisition. Just because Varric is worse than a weaving circle doesn't make anything true."

"Ah, but I never said Varric was involved." Dorian's smile grew even smugger as Cullen knew he thought he had been caught.

Cullen smirked. "Every rumor in Skyhold goes through Varric's hands, along with Leliana's and Bull's."

Dorian huffed and leaned back, and it was Cullen's turn to feel smug. "Well, you're no fun."

He could only raise an eyebrow at the mage. As if he was supposed to be; fun didn't get troops trained and ready, fun didn't take care of requisitions and requests. "If there's nothing else…?"

"Actually," Dorian said, "there was one thing. As commander of the Inquisition's forces, would you say you're...in possession of a mind in love with strategy and tests of will?"

An odd question, and he had more than a feeling that he was being tested in some way. As if he was being judged for worthiness, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "I would say I am," he answered cautiously.

"Good. Then you'll join me for a game of chess." It almost sounded like a question, but Cullen knew demands when he heard them.

"Chess?"

"Yes, you've heard of it, I hope. Board game, white and black pieces, king capturing, all that."

Cullen smirked and shook his head. "Yes, I know of it."

"Good. I found the quaintest set in a room just off the garden. And it's a lovely day for a game." Dorian finally stood and gestured toward the door. "After you."

Said commander sighed, shook his head and decided he could use the distraction. Probably just as much as Dorian needed it, if he was seeking him out instead of someone like Varric or Trevelyan herself.

Had he known what that chess game would lead to, he would have sought out Dorian for a game weeks ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This reaches the end of what I had originally written and posted nearly 4 years ago. I'll try to post a new chapter once a week from here on out.


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